Harry Potter and the Power of Faith
by Jonn Wolfe
Summary: In an explosion of rage at Dumbledore over revealing the prophesy too late, Harry's magic apparates him out of Hogwarts. Half way around the world, he appears in front of the Slayer and falls unconscious. What will two abused souls do to the balance of power -and- the prophesy? Grey!Harry/Faith, Hermione/Tara, Wesley, Remus, Tonks. X-over Potterverse/Faithverse No Buffy or Scoobies
1. The Path to Hell

_**"**__******Harry Potter and the Power of Faith**"  
__Chapter One  
- The Path to Hell -_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I don't own squat, save for the plot._

_Got a new plot bunny that would NOT let up on me. Damn it all. I have too many stories to start another one._

_This is going to be QUITE a mature and 'realistic' story. There will not be any descriptions of intimate contact, but will be half of an adventure story and a romance novel. It wont be 'bodice ripper' cheesy, but it will definitely start out with some 'did that actually happen?' moments. Faith is definitely in her element here._

_**HP** – Starts at Night of the DoM, Dumbles just told Harry the Prophecy._

_**Faithverse** – Complete AU. The Initiative is early._

– _**Time Trivia –**_

_Harry was born July 31, 1980  
Faith was born Dec. 14, 1980_

_Hermione was born Sept. 19, 1979  
Tara was born on Oct. 16, 1980_

_Date at the start of this fic:  
June 18, 1996 – The Night of the DoM._

_**Major Differences**_

_**1)** Buffy did not receive CPR because a certain someone wasn't as quick on their feet. Kendra took over and lasted longer than a year with Angel's help. Spike, Darla, and Drusilla were all dusted by Kendra, who didn't compromise. She took care of the Mayor before he turned into a giant snake, but was later killed by Kakistos. She and her watcher died horribly._

_**2)** Faith was called from Boston. Her first and only watcher is Wesley, still tweedified. Kakistos was dealt with in a rather unconventional manner, which will be touched on in the story._

_**3)** The Watcher's Council is a division of the ICW. Like the DoM, the Council is self supported and answers only to itself._

_**4)** As per the Angelverse, Wesley is a minor wizard. Here, he attended Hogwarts and was three years behind the Marauders in Ravenclaw. He was recruited into the Council by his father after graduation. Since the Council dealt more with Demons and the Muggle world, Wesley is one up on most of the rest of the purebloods in fitting in, but still has a twig up his backside over the rules. Rupert graduated when the Marauders were in their second year.  
_

_**5)** Faith doesn't have a crew (yet). It's just her and 'Bow-Tie' in the beginning. She got her GED after a disastrous attempt at 'Hellmouth High'._

_**6)** Willow and Xander moved away from Sunnydale after Buffy's death. Both sets of parents realized that after the deaths of two of their best friends, that the Sunnyhell wasn't all that constructive to living. Even though the Rosenbergs don't really hang about at home, they agreed with their daughter to relocate to the same town as Xander for her emotional well being. They currently live in Colorado Springs, in an apparent supernatural dead zone. Willow's brilliance has been flagged by the Air Force as a potential recruit. Xander just wants to be wherever Willow is. They never met Oz._

_**7)** __Glory was in the Buffyverse, so no Dawn here. One Key only, and it isn't here. _

* * *

_**Main Characters & Pairings  
**Grey!Harry/Faith  
Hermione/Tara  
Wesley/?  
Remus/?  
Tonks/?_

_**Big Bads:**  
Adam & Initiative, Voldedore & Dumblemort_

_**Annoyances:**  
Kennedy, Ron, Ginny, Molly_

* * *

**4:32am Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office**

Dumbledore was worried. After showing Harry his memory of the prophecy, there was little to no reaction for at least five minutes. He filled the silence with his reasoning for placing Harry with the Dursleys, apologizing for the hardship he knew Harry would go through. He was tempted to use a compulsion to get the boy to talk, but there was an increased presence of magic that was becoming oppressive. Finally, he spoke. However, the tone of his voice alarmed him.

"How long?" Harry asked quietly and coolly, not looking up from staring at his knees.

Dumbledore blinked. "How long what, my boy?"

"How long have you known?" Harry clarified, then continued before he got an answer. "I asked you in my first year why Riddle seemed so fascinated with my life, and yet you wouldn't tell me for fear of my _childhood_. So I ask again, Headmaster, how long have you known?"

"The prophesy was given before you were born," Dumbledore said with a frown. This wasn't going like he thought it would.

Harry nodded, still looking at his knees. "I'm going to hazard a guess that Neville was a possibility as well."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "you were born only five minutes apart. But until Voldemort decided, it could have been either of you."

"And that was what the Order was guarding all year?" Harry asked, his voice still low and flat. His insides were as cold as his temper was burning at this point, and it reflected in his voice.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. One of the shiny knick knacks on the shelf close to the door pinged, drawing his attention. Seeing which one caused him to pale slightly. The boy was supposed to be crying or having some other form of breakdown at this point. He never foresaw the rage that was building in front of him. "Harry…" he paused and paled further as he looked back to see the expression of outright _hatred_ Harry was glaring at him now.

"You _bastard_," Harry hissed. "Sirius would still be alive if you told me what was in there. But no, you had to stay away and avoided me whenever I needed to talk to you; hoarding knowledge like a miser; keeping everything in your little web of lies proceeding at a certain pace until your _weapon_ was ready."

"Harry…" Dumbledore slowly stood from his desk and had his hand ready to grab his wand. The wandless compulsions to calm him were washing around the boy's aura. If things were going where he thought they were headed, he'd need to obliviate the past hour.

"**NO!**" Harry roared as he stood and slammed his fists on the desk. Several silvered baubles that were monitoring and tracking him exploded behind him as the desk cracked. "You don't get to talk now. It's _my_ turn!"

Sitting quickly, Dumbledore kept his hand close to his wand. Maybe venting would be better for now.

"You say you _knew_ how the Dursleys would treat me and sent me there anyway. Well, congratulations Headmaster. I now know you for what you are. You condone whippings, beatings, starvation and traumatic mental abuse. And, that's just talking about the ten years I endured my _family's loving embrace_," he snarled with as much sarcasm as he ever spoke before.

"And here," he continued, turning slowly in a circle with his arms out, "in your palace of power, you condone abusive teachers, encourage racism and foul language, while punishing those that try to stand up for themselves; pontificating over the value of _forgiveness_ and turning the other cheek. Well, wake up Headmaster. Turning the other cheek gets that one just as cursed as the first one!"

Turning quickly, he glared at Fawks while his voice rose in volume. "How in the name of _Merlin_ can you _stand_ being around him? **Your presence condones his actions as being for the LIGHT!**" he ended with a shout.

When the phoenix bowed his head with a mournful sound of shame, he returned his scowl back to the Headmaster. "Did turning the other cheek win for you with Grindewald? Is that it? Did you hug and kiss the man before you walked him to his death? Or, is he in some prison somewhere, while you hope and pray that he repents his evil ways?"

The twinkle was long gone from Dumbledore's eyes, and his face twisted into a mirror of Harry's. "You go too far," he whispered.

"**FUCK YOU!" **he shot back with a shout that echoed with magic. **"THIS IS ****YOUR**** FAULT!" **Hands balled into fists, Harry bent slightly and howled his rage over this betrayal. His magic swirled around him in a miasma of chaos.

Completely alarmed at what was happening, Dumbledore pulled his wand and prepared to obliviate the past hour. Before he could get the spell off, however, there was a loud crack of thunder that deafened him.

Shaking his head to clear his ears, Dumbledore stood and looked about. Harry wasn't in the room – the _warded_ and _locked_ room. "What?"

"You pushed him too far, Albus," Dippet's painting scolded. There was a murmur from the others that agreed with him from their now askew portraits. "I'm not sure how he did it, but he apparated out of the castle."

"What?" Dumbledore said a bit louder. "That's impossible! I'm the only one who can apparate within the wards!"

Silent on the shelf, the sorting hat smirked. For the first time since he was created, he found it difficult to not laugh outright as Hogwarts herself put the anti-apparition wards back up.

* * *

**9:58pm – Sunnydale – Pine Cemetery**

A fledgling vampire exploded into dust in front of the Slayer. She was getting beyond frustrated from the soldier boys taking out most of her 'physical therapy'. Oh she appreciated the help, but it was becoming a nightmare of not having anything to fight lately.

She couldn't even get anything out of Willy on what the military was up to. His bar had been boarded up a month ago, from a lack of customers.

In short, the lull of excitement was annoying Faith's inner slayer, and she was half tempted to let the army have the place and move to Cleveland. Even though its hellmouth was tiny in comparison, there should be things to do, vamps to stake, malls to rob… er… shop.

Her earpiece crackled with Wesley's tinny voice. He explained how he was able to scramble them with magic, but all she had got out of it was 'magic in, magic out, soldiers hear kids playing with their radios'.

"_How's the lay of the land, Faith?"_ Wesley asked.

She rolled her eyes at how he talked. "Five by Five, Bow-Tie. The new scanner thing you hooked into the radio is doing it's job."

"_So, you're able to avoid America's Finest?" _

She cringed as she hopped out of the cemetery and headed back home. "Don't do that. Every time you try to sound like us, you come off a dork. That phrase was for cops, which are redundantly retarded in this town. If you meant the army boys, then yeah. Skipping 'round them just fine."

"_I'm proud of you, Faith. You used redundant in a complete sentence."_

She scowled at his small victory. "Bite me, Watcher-man."

"_Never in a million years. I know where you've been."_

That got a snort out of her. "Oh! Good one! See? Told you I could teach you someth–" Faith froze as every nerve ending started shouting !danger! at her.

"_Faith?"_

Crouching next to a tree after she scoped the branches, she held a finger over the earpiece and looked around rapidly. "Somethin's wrong," she whispered. "Not hellmouthy. Reminds me of that port-thingy you used to get us to L.A. last year."

"_Portkey?"_

"Yeah, and the feeling's getting worse. I can almost tell where it'll end up."

"_Where are you?"_

"Woods between Pine Cemetery and Oak Drive."

"_Stay down and keep low. If aurors show up, remember the I.D. I gave you. I'm on my way."_

Watching the spot her senses were screaming at her about, a person appeared with the sound of lightning crashing.

"_That was no portkey. I felt that from here. Faith? Are you all right?"_

"Five by five," she whispered. "It's a guy, and he looks a bit trashed. Oh, and he's cute too."

"_Faith?"_

Stepping out from behind the tree, she looked the guy over. His hair was a complete mess, and he looked to have been in one hell of a fight. Clothes were shoddy and ripped, too. He was facing her, but she could tell he didn't see her at all, what with how he was blinking in a daze. "Hey man, you okay?"

The guy seemed to focus on her, and boy were his eyes _green_. "Yeah, that hurt," he wheezed with a grunt. Blinking a bit more, he fell backwards like his strings were cut.

"Crap." She shot forward and was just able to keep the guy's head from hitting a rock. "B.T.? I think this is one of yours. He just fainted after saying he hurt himself or something." Pausing, she blinked. "Damn, you're cute."

"_Don't move him! Is he all there?"_

"Looks like it?"

"_Not missing fingers, toes or ears?"_

She looked him over again. "Well, he's got on a pair of crappy shoes that I'm not touching, but it looks like he's all here. Why?"

"_Portkeys don't make noise like that. Apparition does. With how loud it was, he could've splinched himself."_

"Splint?"

"_Splinch. Splinching means leaving behind a body part."_

"Ouch. No. He's all here," she said, looking him over again.

There was a small crack that startled her. "Splinching is easily remedied," Wesley said from about twenty feet away from her. He came over and looked down. "Now, what about you, my good fellow? Oh, you're young to be apparating."

"Hey!" Faith complained. "He looks my age!"

"I stand by my statement," Wesley said dryly. Kneeling down, he saw that Faith still had her left hand behind the boy's head. Thinking that was sweet, but not voicing it since she was too close, he brushed the lad's hair back to get a better look at him. "Oh, _bloody_ hell."

Blinking, Faith gaped at him. "You swore!"

"I think I have every right to," he replied as he began searching him. Finding his wand, he pocketed it in his jacket and helped Faith sit him up. "This young man saved Great Britain when he was a toddler in '81. Can you carry him back to the house?"

"Yeah," Faith said, before she dead-lifted him. "What'd he do, throw a dirty diaper at a demon?"

Chuckling, Wesley looked about as they walked to the house. "Something like that, I'm sure. No one really knows what happened, except that the dark wizard died that night. He killed his parents, then tried to kill him. Speculations abound as to why the killing curse reflected back on him."

"That the one that looks green?" Faith asked as she hopped over a dead log.

Wesley nodded as he stepped over the same log. "Precisely."

"So, what's his name? Think he has a girlfriend?"

"Harry Potter. Behave," he chided.

"What?" she countered. "I've only had half my H's covered in _months_, and he's too damned _cute_ to believe."

He gave her a dry look as he opened the back door. "You'd break him."

She grinned as she passed through the door. "What a way to go though, yeah?"

"Just put him on the couch and try not to molest him, shall we?" he groused with a pained expression.

This was too good. She got him whining way too soon. "Oh, come onnnn," she half growled in her 'sexy voice' as she laid the boy on the couch. "Can't I just feel what I'll be missing?"

Seeing her rub the boy's thigh while she was smirking at him, Wesley had enough. "Oh, good lord. I give up. Stop it."

Standing up straight, she bounced as she threw her hands up. "I win!"

"And just for that, you get to put the kettle on," he deadpanned. "Now, twaddle off while I run some diagnostics on him."

"I never understood that word," Faith said as she headed to the kitchen. "Trippin' while you waddle like a duck?" her voice faded as the kitchen door swung closed.

"And put water in it this time!" he shouted after her.

* * *

Faith came back into the living room with the kettle and a few packets of different teas. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, she perched herself next to it and watched as Wesley flipped his wand about. To the left of him floated a piece of parchment and a quill that was writing. It was what she called his 'invisible secretary'.

Strange designs glowed above Harry's body. She recognized a few runes, but couldn't remember what they meant. "Which tea ya want? How's he doin'?"

"He's suffering from magical exhaustion. Darjeeling, please," Wesley said in his distracted voice. "What I don't understand, is why all of this is showing up," he waved his left hand at a group of symbols. "His bone density is below normal, and he appears to have been in several altercations that haven't healed properly."

Frowning at that, Faith looked at Harry's face. Wesley must have removed his glasses, and he was even cuter without them. "So he's a fighter?"

"That would be a reasonable assumption," Wesley said with a nod, "but the nature of most of the injuries indicate systematic abuse. The scarring on his back is quite profound."

Faith's face blanked as that implication sunk in. "Thought you said his parents were dead," she said warily, anger creeping into her voice.

"Yes, but that wouldn't preclude whomever was charged with raising him," he countered. He heard her quietly growl at that statement, but became heavily distracted. "Oh, good lord."

"What?"

Wesley turned wide eyes to her briefly, then looked back at the miasma of coloured lines. "This here," he pointed, "refers to the venom of a basilisk, which is immediately followed by the tears of a phoenix."

"Phoenix's a flaming bird, yeah?" Faith guessed. "What's a ba-silly?"

"A basilisk is _the_ deadliest snake known," Wesley said in a hush. "One drop of its venom can kill a man in under five minutes, and this is saying his system was flooded with it."

"O-kay," she said slowly. "How's he still alive?"

"The phoenix tears, I imagine. They are the most potent essence of healing, and would be a good counter." He paused to glance at the medi-quill, and saw that it was still scribbling on a now three foot bit of parchment. Looking back to the symbols, he pointed again. "I don't understand this bit at all, and it seems to have been there for most of his life. Most probably, it started the night the dark lord was defeated."

Faith shrugged. "Well, I can't read it. So, what's it say?"

Sighing, Wesley felt horrible for the boy. "It says that there is a concentration of dark magic embedded in that scar on his forehead." Frowning, he scratched his temple. "I need to call a specialist. That can't be good for him."

There was a beat of silence, before Faith's impatience won. "Well, who?"

Startled out of his musings, Wesley looked at her. "Hmm? Oh. Wo Pang."

Faith blinked and looked at him with large eyes. "The guy that popped Angel's soul back in? Harry's not soulless!" she protested. He was too gorgeous to be a psychotic killer. "Is he?"

"What? No. Of course not," Wesley shook his head. "But, this rune here indicates that the magic involved deals with the soul. And quite frankly, I'm not one to mess with such a delicate thing. If his is infected in some way, I'm not the one to go messing about. I could do more harm than good."

Faith stood and moved to look down at Harry's head at the end of the couch. "I don't trust him. He wanted too much."

"True," Wesley nodded. "However, that was the more extreme of what he usually does for a living. I would think it takes a great deal of power to summon a soul from the beyond." Pausing, he looked down and almost grinned at how Faith was running her fingers through Harry's hair. "Wo Pang's usual rituals involve cleansing and purification, not cursing vampires. Remember, it took the _entire_ Gypsy clan to curse Angelus the first time."

"So, what will Pang want?" Faith asked, not noticing her fingers playing with the black mop of hair.

"At best, access to a tome of some sort." He shrugged. "At worst, a favour."

There was a lull in the conversation. The diagnostic ended, and the quill flew over to rest on the desk, while the parchment rolled itself and floated in front of Wesley.

Taking the scroll out of the air, he had to ask. "If you don't mind the observation, I do believe this is the first time I've witnessed you behaving as such. Your 'want, take, have' mantra seems to have vanished this evening. Would you mind telling me why?"

Caught out, Faith's eyes widened. She thought about brushing him off, but then she looked down at Harry. The look of pain on his face tore at her. "You know how I was when you found me," she whispered. "I look at him and see _me_. You told me it wasn't my fault that my folks were pricks. Took a while, but I believe you now. I don't think he's had anyone in his corner, and I want to be."

A smile of pride, Wesley nodded and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't expect his acceptance too quickly. If anything, he will most likely be mistrustful for a while. Now do me a favour and step back a moment. I need to dispel some harmful spells that are still on the lad."

Faith wiped her face, then stood back and crossed her arms. "What kind of spells? Anything dangerous?"

"Remember our discussion on mind magic, and the lesser form of the compulsion?" He got a nod as he unrolled the scroll. Finding what he was looking for, he verified what he saw earlier. "While a compulsion spell will cause a certain behaviour, like that one ward around the house that tells people they've left the stove on, what Harry has would be considered a compulsion web."

Seeing her confusion, he continued. "A compulsion spell directs one action. A compulsion _web_ can direct several. Done correctly, a person can have their victim behaving exactly like they want, like a marionette."

Eyes wide at what he said, Faith was horrified. Anything that controlled _her_ was meant to die. "That sounds worse than that imperial curse you told me about. Can you get it off?"

"Imperius," he corrected automatically, "and I hope so, depending on whomever did it. Luckily, I have some pepper up already made. This may take a while, and I'm not that strong of a wizard."

"I'll get it," Faith said as she ran to the basement.

* * *

Poppy Pomphrey frowned as she watched her two wards. Mr. Longbottom, Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood were easily taken care of and sent to bed. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger on the other hand, had terrible things happen to them. That dark cutting curse took a bit out of her to heal on the young lady, and the mental trauma on her least favourite patient was almost beyond her capabilities.

She thought back to what she found in Miss Granger's system and frowned deeper. Even though it was easily countered, she didn't like the implications. It was highly doubtful that Mr. Weasley could have brewed that potion, so he had help from someone.

That it was a _mastery level_ potion left only a few suspects. Professor Snape's educational oath would normally preclude such a thing. However, Mrs. Weasley was a budding potions mistress, before she became pregnant with William. That her youngest son was so self entitled and an educational embarrassment implicated his mother even more. Having the most brilliant witch under his thrall would help him tremendously.

Then, there was the confession that Miss Granger gave her in her third year. No, this would not stand. It wouldn't stand at all.

Normally, she would have the patients close together, so she would not have to run around so much. However, finding amorentia keyed to the Weasley boy in Miss Granger's system caused her to do something she never would have considered before: Defy the Headmaster.

Wand out, she levitated Mr. Weasley to the end of the row, closest to the door. Getting him settled, she turned and did the same to Miss Granger… to the _opposite_ end and closest to her office. Conjuring medical screens around Miss Granger's new bed, she warded the area against anyone but herself and her patient. No sense in risking someone slipping the girl more of that foul potion.

Pulling a self inking quill and a bit of parchment, Poppy wrote a small note of instructions for Hermione to find if she woke up, and placed it in her hand. That done, she set the monitoring charm to tell her when the girl woke, and moved over to her other patient.

Looking down at the ginger Gryffindor, Poppy walled her disgust behind her oaths of office. The creature that latched itself on the boy's head violated his mind. Without knowing what the beast was, she could only stabilize him. She shook her head as she remembered what the others told her what happened to him.

"Accio brains," she scoffed in a whisper.

* * *

Snape entered the Headmaster's office to find it in a state of complete disarray. Albus' desk had two impressions splintered into it, several of the bookshelves were askew with their books strewn about, and many shelves were shattered. And, which was most unsettling, the devices that monitored and tracked Potter were in tiny fragments.

Turning with wide eyes, he saw the Headmaster pacing in a circle. "Albus, what has happened? Are you all right?"

"He found it," Albus grumbled. "I didn't believe it possible, Severus, but he found it."

Stepping over next to the mantle of the fireplace, Snape crossed his arms and stood back, as there was no furniture that survived whatever happened. "Who found what, Headmaster?"

Still pacing, Albus was shaking his head back and forth. "The power he knows not. Harry found it."

Looking about the room, Snape saw the evidence, but couldn't believe what that implied. "Potter hasn't even reached his age of majority yet, Albus. How could he have found anything?"

"I pushed him," Dumbledore said with a grimace. "I pushed him too hard this time." Coming to a stop, he grunted his frustration. "I told him the prophesy. He should have broken down in tears. Instead, he now blames me for Sirius' death."

Looking at Snape, there was pain in his eyes. "He even said that I approve of _child abuse_!"

"Don't you?" Snape asked with a tilt of the head. "I told you what Petunia was like, and her husband is ten times worse. However, you saw fit to send him there over my objections," he drawled.

"I never would have believed that they would whip and starve him!" Albus shouted. "This is an unmitigated disaster!"

"I am only here due to the vow you forced me into," Snape said quietly with a harsh glare. "I've done your bidding, and let you abuse the child of my closest friend. Were I capable, I would kill you myself and then commit suicide for the atrocities you forced me to commit. I am disgusted with what you've done – both to me, Lily _and_ Harry."

The Headmaster paused to eye his potion master with a glint of steel. "You _agreed_, Severus."

"Much to my sufferance and shame," Snape said with a nod. "Now, if there's nothing more, I would like to retire before the sun rises." With that, he turned and left the office, fuming.

* * *

One hour and two pepper ups later, Wesley was sweating. Whomever did this knew what they were doing. The last thread snapped, and he stumbled backwards with a bit of a moan.

"Whoa!" Faith jumped up and caught him before he fell over. "You okay? Did it work?"

Wesley nodded weakly. "I believe so," he whispered. "I need to lay down for a while and recharge."

"No more potions?" Faith asked.

He shook his head. "I took two in an hour, and that's not good for me. If I take another, it would most likely cause an overdose."

"Okay, yeah. O.D. bad," Faith commented as she led him up the stairs. "Do you need me to do anything while you sleep?"

They were in Wesley's room at this point, and he stumbled into a sitting position on the bed. "Just put Mr. Potter in the guest room. I doubt he'll wake up before I do. Magical exhaustion usually takes days to recover from."

"What about you? You look like complete crap."

He shook his head as he kicked his shoes off. "This is Magical Fatigue. Not quite as profound as exhaustion, and easier to recover from. I should be better by noon at the earliest."

"All right," she nodded. "I'll take care of things. You just get some sleep, okay? You did good, Watcher-man."

Wesley gave a half chuckle as he put his glasses on the side table. "Thank you."

"Shout if you need anything," Faith said as she closed the door.

Coming back down to the living room, Faith was a mix of emotions as she watched Harry sleep. Mind control, abuse… it was all cutting too close to home. Biting her lip, she snatched his glasses and lifted him up.

Wesley was right. Even though she could lift a small car, Faith could tell that Harry didn't weigh enough. Taking him up the stairs, she kicked the door to the guest room open and went to rest him on the bed.

Eyeing the dried blood on his face, she left and quickly returned with a first aid kit. He may only be magically exhausted, but that didn't mean she couldn't clean him up a bit.

Looking him over, she frowned. "Okay, those shoes have _got_ to go." She slipped them off of his feet with a look of disgust and tossed them aside. Stifling a snicker at the mismatched socks, she noticed that they were hand made. She removed them as well, and folded them to set on top of the dresser. They were too nice to toss.

Getting his jacket off was problematic. Even though he was comparatively light, dead weight was always a hassle to move around. She finally managed it, and hung it up on a hook that was on the closet door. "We have _got_ to get you some new threads, eye-candy. These are falling off o'ya."

Smirking to herself, she undid Harry's trousers and slipped them off. "Boxer man, huh?" she commented with a grin. The grin turned into a frown when she saw that they were pinned to make them fit. "That's just not right."

Sighing at what she was seeing, she shook her head and fetched the bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls from the kit. She couldn't help but study his face as she cleaned the blood away. His eyes were slightly sunken, which could have been part of that exhausted thing. And he was so pale. "Don't get out in the sun much, do ya Harry?"

Now that most of the blood was cleared off, she realized that he was grimy from whatever fight he'd been in. Smirking again, she left and came back with a pot of water, soap, and a wash cloth.

Doing this without perving on him was a nightmare. His abs were to die for. But, she managed to clean off most of what she found without a lot of trouble.

Thinking while biting her lip, she eyed those boxers. "Fuck it." Unpinning them, she slipped them off and barely held off her whistle of admiration. She rolled him to the side again and wiped down his ass, biting her lip the entire time. Turning him to his back again, she swallowed thickly as her inner slayer was _most_ appreciative.

Cleaning off his front as gently and slowly as she could, she grinned at the initial physical reaction. Then her eyebrows went up when it was done moving. "Damn. I'm tempted to take you right now, Harry. That's something to be proud of."

Looking up at his face, she saw that his grimace of pain was gone. Sighing, she fondled him bare handed. "Oh wake up. This is no fun when you're out cold," she whined.

Grumbling a growl, she pouted for a bit, before bending down to kiss the crown of that wonderful appendage. "We're _so_ getting to know each other later," she breathed at it, grinning as it twitched.

Shaking herself. She stood abruptly and left the room again. Rummaging through Wesley's dresser, she frowned at his style of underclothes. "You are such a dork," she commented. Grabbing a pair, a white tee, and blue pyjama bottoms, she walked quickly back to the guest room.

"Damn," she breathed huskily. "You're still…" She shook herself again. "I'm _so_ having a piece of that," she whispered. "Wake up dammit," she hissed. "I'm not raping you."

Sighing when he didn't, she set about covering him back up. He was thinner than Wesley, but at least these were clean and fit better than what he had. Once he was covered up, she gave him one last peek and licked her lips. Looking around rapidly, she bent down and sucked him into her mouth, groaning with a sigh.

Realizing what she was doing, she stopped after a minute and quickly got him under the covers. She kissed that weird scar on his forehead and walked out of the room. "I need a shower," she muttered.

Later, after she 'took care' of her little problem in the confines of running water, she looked into the room and saw that Harry hadn't moved at all. Frowning, she left again and put on a night shirt and a pair of panties. Nabbing her robe, she padded back into the room and shut the door.

"I know this is a mistake, but I don't care," she announced. Setting her robe over a chair, she slid under the covers and curled up next to Harry. She moved his arm up and rested her head on his shoulder. "My god, you smell awesome," she said under her breath. A yawn overcame her, and she put an arm and a leg over him.

Faith fell asleep while rubbing his other shoulder. Unknown to her, a soft smile crossed Harry's face while he was out. His arm moved slowly till it cradled her, and his head rolled to the side she was laid against.


	2. Is Paved With What?

_**"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"  
**__Chapter Two  
- Is Paved With What? -_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I don't own squat, save for the plot._

_**HP** – Started at Night of the DoM, Dumbles told Harry the Prophecy. There were some verbal shenanigans, and Harry's magic absconded him to parts unknown… I.E. California, U.S.A._

_**Faithverse** – Complete AU. The Initiative is early. Faith saw a boy roughly her age appear in front of her with a crack of thunder. In helping him out, she fought her instincts and almost succeeded. Almost._

– _**Time Trivia Per a Couple of Wikis –**_

_Harry was born July 31, 1980  
Faith was born Dec. 14, 1980_

_Mione was born Sept. 19, 1979  
Tara was born Oct. 16, 1980_

_Date at the start of this fic:  
June 18, 1996 – The Night of the DoM._

– _**More Time Trivia – **_

_California Time is eight hours behind British Time… depending, of course, on whether or not everyone observes Daylight Savings Time at the same … time… Honestly, that's too complicated for me to bother that much._

_**Personal note:**  
Never try to write whilst tipsy. The poor spell-checker will be overrun and overheat. _

_Also, the plot will do odd things and think Luna is in charge. _

_Don't ask. It'll give you a headache.  
_

* * *

**Unknown**

Faith found herself standing in the middle of a desert, staring unblinkingly at the sun. Coming to herself, she looked around – completely confused. "All right, Faith. Did you swallow the worm?" she asked herself, only half joking. Her freaky meter just pegged itself on overload.

A gentle breeze focussed her attention towards a depression in the sand. More of a very wide basin than a hole, she could see two people next to a fire pit. One was crouching over the other, who was prone on the ground. It looked like the one crouching was tracing a finger over the other's forehead.

"Hey! What the hell's going on?" Faith shouted. Instantly, she was in front of them and disoriented. However, she could see that the crouching one was rather wild looking. Girlish, her hair was matted and stringy, hanging over what looked like shoddy animal skin clothing. She also apparently used mud for make-up.

It was the other figure that drew her attention though, because it was Harry. Animalistic fury gripped her at the sight. "Back off bitch, he's _mine_!" She was only half tempted to wonder where the hell that came from. As it was, she thought this was one fucked up dream.

The girl stood and spun so fast, that Faith was eye to eye with her before she knew what was happening. The golden eyes were _wiggy_. The girl poked her in the chest and half growled, "Mate?"

Figuring what the hell, Faith reiterated what she said. "That's right. He's _mine…_ I. Don't. Share."

The girl grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down to where they were both over Harry on either side of him. The wild one put her right index finger between her own eyes, then hers, then the centre of Harry's chest. "Mate?"

"_Yes_, dammit!" Faith shouted, getting beyond frustrated.

The girl held up her left hand, somewhat placating, then put both hands on Harry's chest. "Mate," she stated in her gravelly voice, then pointed to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Demon."

Remembering what Wesley told her about that scar, only one thing came to mind. "Oh, shit." It wasn't eloquent, but then she was never accused of such a thing before either.

The girl slammed her hands on her own upper chest. "Sineya."

Getting it, she nodded her head up. "Faith." Looking down at Harry, she was all sorts of conflicted. "How do we get it out of him?" she whispered.

Drawing Faith's attention to her again, Sineya held up her right index finger. Faith watched a wicked looking claw grow to about two inches. "_Sineya,_" she growled her own name slowly out. "_Slay,_" she looked down at Harry, "_Demon_."

And with that, Sineya moved like lightning and stabbed Harry's scar with her finger.

* * *

**8:57am – Wesley's House – Guest Room**

Wind was swirling in the room. Faith was straddling Harry's waist, with her hair whipping about. Her left forearm was braced against Harry's collar bone, and she had her index finger on Harry's scar. A deep, feral – _guttural –_ growl could be heard coming from deep within her throat and chest. If anyone was conscious and witnessing, they would've seen that Faith's eyes had changed from deep brown to amber.

Harry's eyes opened in shock, as an unholy screeching precluded the black smoke and equally black pus that came out of his scar. Faith forcibly held him still throughout his painful spasms. Whumps of air and dark light pulsed out of the point where her finger touched the scar, excising the taint.

When it was over, he fell unconscious again. Faith fell on top of him two seconds later, panting rapidly. "Ow. _Damn_, bitch, that hurt."

Still bleary, she heard Sineya's voice coming from everywhere. "_Mate. Free_."

"Thanks," Faith said dryly, still catching her breath. "Now I gotta convince him," she blinked tiredly, weighing her options. "Fuckit. Too tired to move or think, and you make the _best_ pillow."

Unconcerned about her position on top of Harry, Faith fell asleep with a lilt of a smile on her face. In her mind, she had just protected her boy-toy. So, using him for a resting place seemed like a logical reward for her.

Not that she could be accused of using anything remotely close to "logic".

The only reason Wesley hadn't barged in with a crossbow at the ready, was that he was completely dead to the world. He may not have been magically exhausted, but he was so close to that he would've been hard pressed to react to a train steaming through the living room.

* * *

**4:57pm – Hogwarts – Hospital Wing**

Images swam in Hermione's mind: Lucius Malfoy sneering about the trap they set for Harry; Bellatrix Lestrange's insane baby talk; watching stunned Death Eaters being revived over and over – _that pissed her off_; feeling fire go across her chest; hearing Harry scream.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she was able to force them open. The sterile environment of Hogwarts' Hospital Wing calmed her a bit. However, the screens that were around her bed didn't make her feel all that good about the situation.

Moving her fingers caused her to become aware of a slip of parchment in her right hand. Pulling it up to her face, she had to squint in order to read it. Such was the norm for a pre-caffeinated Hermione Granger. She didn't do mornings without several cups of tea – possibly coffee if it was exam season.

Blinking through the words, they seemed to cure her need for the beverages.

_Miss Granger,_

_You are undoubtedly aware that you were injured. There will be a set of potions that I will recommend you apply to prevent scarring. However, this isn't what I am most concerned about._

_While I was examining you, I came across a potion that was introduced into your system. One would assume that it would be against your will, but then again you were the one that made polyjuice in your second year. Naughty thing._

_Before I go on, I want you to think about how you have been relating to your friends this year. I haven't broken your confidence, but I found it completely appalling that you had low levels of amorentia in your system that was keyed to young Mr. Weasley._

Wide eyed now and completely awake, Hermione looked away from the letter and reflected on the year. Most notably, she had been more tolerant of Ron's behaviour for some strange reason. That, and she was writing out his homework for him to _copy_ – something completely unheard of for her. Normally, she'd try to coach him and Harry while attempting to get them to take their studies more seriously.

Brow furrowed in anger, she looked back to the letter.

_I have taken the liberty of purging you of this with refined bezoar, and you should be feeling righteous indignation over the situation. I would be, and am for your sake. I suggest you not speak of this aloud, as I am sure that Mr. Weasley could not have brewed a mastery level potion. As such, he may not even know about the situation. However, I might ask you to reflect on any edibles you may or may not have received either from him or his relations._

A box of Honeydukes fudge suddenly flashed through her mind, causing her to glare at the letter.

_I cannot honestly point a finger at his mother, but it is the most logical conclusion. As such, and this is woefully something I abhor within our community, there aren't many laws that would support you if you were to bring up charges due to you being a muggleborn, especially against a pureblood family. Add that to what you confessed to me two years ago, then there wouldn't be any reservation for others to attempt similar things._

_I highly recommend that you wait until you've received your OWL results, and immigrate to either the Magical States of America or the Magical Consortium of Australia. I have yet to examine Mr. Potter, but this will most likely involve him as well, as he is technically your head of house._

_Yes, my dear, those oaths you took that night placed you under the Potter Family Aegis. It will not matter in the short term, but will after he claims his Lordship. I'm sure there are relevant texts in the library._

_Do not speak of this to me, but please do nod if you intend to remove yourself from the situation. I will do my best to inform your Brother In Magic._

_Now, look up dear._

_Poppy_

Blinking through her tears, she lowered the letter to see Madam Pomphrey looking at her with a pensive expression on her face. Stifling a half sob, Hermione nodded, then curled on her side to bury her face in the pillow. She felt violated.

Poppy patted her side as the letter left her hand. Looking up, she saw the medi-witch incinerate the message.

The medi-witch then fussed over her, informing her of the potions treatment while applying the first of the regime. After she spread the foul smelling potion and then cleaned her hands with her wand, Poppy leaned down to her ear. "Don't worry. I wont let that boy near you."

"Thank you," she whispered back. Hermione was then surprised by the rather gentle grandmotherly hug Madam Pomphrey surrounded her with. What the 'head torture artist', as Harry once called her, said next completely floored her.

"Witches witches need to stick together. Men have no understanding of what's truly important."

"Harry does," Hermione blurted through her tears.

Nodding, Poppy let her back down. "Well, there are exceptions, dear, and he's a rather special and unique individual," she said with a wink and a smirk. "Don't tell him I said that, though. Right?"

* * *

**4:57pm – Malfoy Manor**

Shrill screams had pierced the manor when Voldemort returned. Nearly his entire inner circle were captured by _schoolchildren_! Having only Bellatrix and her sister in the mansion didn't sit well for him.

Lady Malfoy had passed out hours ago from near insanity levels of cruciatus exposure. Bella got boring after five minutes, when she seemed to be getting off from it. Crazy bint.

Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, Tom's head exploded in pain. Like earlier, when he had attempted possessing the Potter brat, his mind was flooded with pain as the emotions from the lad started overpowering him.

His vision was overcome with the sight of Albus Dumbledore flinching backwards, from someone screaming 'no' at him. He then could feel Potter's rage and nearly smiled. Such darkness could be used, after all. Seeing Dumbledore's phoenix hang its head in shame was confusing, but Potter's rant at the old man seemed to be at the heart of it.

Every muscle in Tom's body then stiffened as he felt the magical backlash of something… _else_. Gold eyes pierced his vision from the darkness, and there was a crash of noise just before he fell unconscious – screaming.

* * *

**4:57pm – Great Britain**

In various places up and down the country, Death Eaters grabbed their left arms, hissing in pain. In an office in the dungeon of Hogwarts, a certain potions master started weakly chuckling through his gritted teeth.

* * *

**1:03pm – Wesley's House**

Groggy as the day is long, Wesley groaned a bit as he rolled out of bed. Put simply, he was completely knackered. The fact that he'd slept rather long didn't figure into things. It was his magic that still hadn't quite replenished itself.

After going through his usual waking abolitions, he checked on Mr. Potter and found something that he was afraid of. Sighing, he walked around the bed and tried to rouse Faith with a gentle shoulder shake. "Faith? Come on, now. Wake up."

The sight of his Slayer being completely bleary usually meant alcohol was involved. However, her uneven blinking at him preceded a soft smile, which was immediately followed by a scowl.

Grinning up at her Watcher, Faith blurredly mumbled, "I did it." Then her brain caught up with her. "Go 'way, Wes. 'm comfy."

"Did what?" Wesley asked with a bit of trepidation. "You can't sleep on someone you barely know, especially if they don't know you. At least roll off the lad," he chided.

"No," she grumbled. "Got that bit of icky outta him. G'way. 'm tired."

Blinking, Wesley glanced at the scar on Harry's forehead and blanched. Dark stains of something resembling tar had leached out of it, and had matted part of the boy's hair. "Good Lord," he breathed. "Faith, how did you do that?"

Frowning with a scowl, Faith tried to burrow herself into her Harry pillow. "Sineya diddit," she slurred. "Now g'way. 'm _sleepin'_."

Standing up straight, Wesley was at a loss. Where had she heard that name? Sineya was the First Slayer, and Faith said that she did something. Looking back down, he could see a bit of the same tar on Faith's fingertip. The evidence was there, but how in the world had it occurred?

Realizing that they were both too tired for anything, her especially, Wesley left the room to go have a bit of breakfast. He needed to refer to his library, and scolded himself for not paying more attention to the history of the First Slayer. Something about shadowmen? Well, if anything, they wouldn't need Wo Pang if the diagnostic supported her claim.

He dearly hoped that the boy wouldn't wake until after Faith had moved. There was no telling how that would play out, and he felt a tension headache forming at the fiasco that was approaching.

* * *

After filling up on twice what he normally ate, Wesley was thinking a bit more clearly. Finally recognizing the annoyed hooting coming from above, he looked up at the incensed owl. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Here." He placed two knuts in the owl's pouch and gave it a rash of bacon. _Real_ bacon, not that gristle that Americans seemed to love.

Taking the proffered paper, Wesley's eyes bulged at the headline of the _Western Oracle_.

**DARK WIZARD VOLDEMORT  
SIGHTED IN BRITISH MINISTRY**

**TERRORIST ATTACK TRASHES  
DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES**

**BRITISH MINISTER of MAGIC  
APOLOGIES TO DUMBLEDORE AND  
BOY-WHO-LIVED**

Reading through the various articles, Wesley felt a snippet of fear creep up his spine. Apparently, young Mr. Potter led a group of six on a rescue mission of some sort. While it said that they had failed, the resulting backlash of the confrontation revealed that the so called rumour of the Dark Lord's return was genuine.

**BRITISH MINISTER of MAGIC  
PARDONS SIRIUS BLACK**

That article made Wesley's hair stand on end. Reading how it was Peter Pettigrew who had actually betrayed the Potters and murdered those civilians actually made sense. Wesley remembered the so-called Marauders, and Pettigrew seemed to be more in the shadows than the rest. Then, there was the fact that Black and Potter were thick as thieves. Black being taken in by Potter when he was thrown out, or ran away, or whichever it was as the stories varied, Wesley never really believed that Black was guilty.

Then he read that Black had died in that terrorist attack. "Too little, too late," he grumbled.

Rubbing his eyes, Wesley tried to put things in priority. People would be looking for young Mr. Potter. Sighing, he went to the mini-floo that he had placed in the living room. Head height, all it could do was make calls and transfer small objects.

Now, who to contact? It was obvious that it had to be Hogwarts. However, he really didn't need to try to put up with Dumbledore. That man was worse than his own father in dealing out platitudes with heapings of guilt.

He decided to go with the facts: Mr. Potter was injured, so it was reasonable to assume that there were others in similar states. Smiling to himself, he cupped a handful of powder and dusted it into the flame. "East Coast International, Great Britain, Hogwarts, Medical Wing, Madam Poppy Pomphrey."

"Yes? Who is it?" Poppy could be heard, just before her face appeared in the flame. "Oh my! Hello, Healer Wyndam-Pryce. How may I help you this evening?" she asked with a bit of pride in her voice.

"Hello, Poppy, my dear," Wesley said with a self deprecating grin. He so wished he was still working in hospital. "A few things, and I apologize for this not being a social call. First, the prior evening's hullabaloo is all over the international papers. Second, I do believe we need to trade some medical information, as I do believe I have one of your patients."

Poppy's hand went up. "One moment." She disappeared for a few seconds, then came back. Without saying anything, she traced a lightning bolt over her right eye. Seeing his nod, she handed him a thick packet through the floo. "I may be sending you another of my charges very shortly. She was struck with a dark cutting curse that I wasn't able to identify. Is there anything you needed to ask?"

This stilted language of hers was _wrong_. Then there was the fact that she was going to send him someone else? Concerned, he mouthed _'are you all right?'_ to her. She shook her head and pointed down. Looking at the packet, he realized he had two of them bound in twine. Undoing them, he saw Mr. Potter's scholastic medical records along with a Hermione Granger's.

He read the note that was attached to Miss Granger's and scowled. Looking up with wide eyes, he saw Poppy nod with an equal frown on her face, then pointed down again. Reading the last on the note, he nodded and scribbled his name and phone number on a bit of paper. Passing it to her through the floo, he simply said "Day or night."

"Thank you Wesley," Poppy said with a sad smile, then mouthed, _'is he all right?'_ He made a 'so-so' gesture with his nod. She looked away for a moment, then turned back. "I'll get you that information, Healer. Thank you."

The abrupt cut off of the call stumped him. That couldn't be a good thing. Nothing else for it, he went back to the library and poured over the medical records.


	3. Demonic Intentions

_**"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"  
**__Chapter Three  
- Demonic Intentions -_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I don't own squat, save for the plot._

* * *

Rage.

Harry was very familiar with this emotion. Usually, the clamps would settle and force him to smile, nod, and accept whatever was said to him. This was different.

He didn't know what else to call them, but they reminded him of the clamps that Uncle Vernon would use to break his fingers. The garage was his most hated place in #4 Privit Drive next to the bannister. Cleaning his uncle's tools with oil was something that he had to do from the age of six. Apparently, something about having learned to cook so well was what prompted the new chore.

He never understood that reasoning. It was especially difficult to understand during the disciplinary sessions he had whenever he would 'do something' wrong. It was just as his uncle stated: Wipe the drill bits, clamps, band saw blade, and etcetera with cleaning oil until they gleamed.

Apparently they were too shiny or something, and the clamps he meticulously scoured were used on his fingers.

This reminded him of that.

Glaring at his knees while Dumbledore went on about how his life at the Dursleys was unfortunate but necessary, he felt one of the clamps in his head snap. The resulting torrent of emotion and _quite well_ spoken English shocked both wizards, but it wasn't enough to stem the tide that was pouring out of him through the words.

His voice was free and it lit into the Headmaster with both bludgers.

It felt _fantastic_.

Then there was some sort of feeling deep in his chest that he couldn't recognise at first. It was almost like that time he found himself on top of the school, but it was different too. There was this _pressure_ that was fighting back, and it was fuelling his rage – which pushed harder against the pressure – which increased in retaliation.

He was stuck in a loop of apparition and didn't have any idea what he was doing.

A presence tried to calm him even as he screamed. He felt it briefly touch something deep in his mind, and it was somewhat feminine. Then the pressure was suddenly gone.

The loudest thunderstorm he knew was the one on the night that Hagrid burst through the door on that island, and what he was hearing and feeling made that sound like a light tapping in comparison.

Roaring noise was everywhere, and he could feel it ripping through him. Every instinct was demanding he get away and the pool of power in his gut twisted, obeying the thought.

His throat was raw when he felt a different presence surround him. Was that approval he was feeling? Something in the miasma nudged him and he felt the world come into focus as his ears felt like they were exploding.

Trees. Had to be. They were green. Reminded him of those huge ones Hagrid would bring in over Christmas Hols. Pine? They weren't wand worthy, and where the devil did _that_ thought come from?

"Hey man, you okay?" he heard slightly from his left.

Harry didn't recognise the accent, but it definitely sounded female. Blinking, he turned his head and saw a girl with motes of light both emanating from and surrounding her. There was a small thought of wrackspurts, but that was just silly.

His throat hurt, but he was supposed to respond. Right? "Yeah," he rasped, "that hurt." Gravity seemed to lose its hold on him then, and for a moment there was a fleeting thought that he just fell off his broom. It was light, heady, and seemed to grip him in feathers.

Feeling a hand on the back of his head, he opened his eyes to find that he was staring at the sun – screaming his wrath at it like it was the source of all his problems.

He didn't really know how long he was screaming, but he thought it was inordinately long to have done so without having to take a breath. That thought snapped him out of it, and he turned about to get his bearings.

"Okay, mate, what the devil have you gotten yourself into this time?" he wondered aloud. Two colours were grabbing his attention. There was the crystal blue of the sky and the yellow grit of sand everywhere.

Attempting to take a step forward, he realised there was something else – and it was in his way. Thin circles of colour surrounded him. Different hues, they seemed to form a cage of multicoloured light around him.

One of them was nearly transparent. He couldn't tell what colour it used to be, and he reached out to touch it. There was a calmness that blanketed him when the tip of his finger grazed it. It was _suffocating_.

No! He _wanted_ to be angry!

Yanking his entire arm back, he stuck his finger in his mouth as if whatever that was burned him. "Wand, where's my wand?" he mumbled as he searched himself.

A scent distracted him, and he closed his eyes to get more of that intoxication into his nose. The name of it was on the tip of his tongue, but it was mixed with the smell of feminine sweat. Whatever it was, that combination smelled absolutely wonderful. "Sandalwood?" he asked himself.

While he was mulling that over, more multicoloured light caught his attention. It was coming from _him_ this time, from different areas all over his body. It was his hands that caught his attention first. Well, every finger except both indexes and thumbs. The sight made him frown, and he looked down to see other places that were familiar. Everything that glowed was somewhere he'd been injured in the past.

The brightest that he could see was that spot on his arm where the basilisk fang had gone through. Others that he'd forgotten about were lit up as well. Awkwardly, his eyes looked up in an attempt to see if that damned scar was glowing too. He even put the palm of his right hand over it to see if there was anything. There wasn't a reflective glow, but some form of shadow instead.

That was disturbing.

After a while, the scent of his most hated tea filled his nostrils, making him think of his Aunt Marge. He couldn't hold back a sneer of disgust at that, when the light from all his previous wounds ceased. Which was fine. Now if that other smell would come back, he'd be a happy man. That stirred something that felt rather good.

A bang of noise caught him out. "What the?" Another bang and he saw that near transparent ring of whatever flicker. He saw it when it banged again, and for some reason his reflexes had him punching it. There was a pause, then it banged again. The banging was spaced apart enough that he could time it. He didn't know why, but it felt right to match the banging with his fist.

That circle shattered at the fifth bang and punch. His ears rang from the sound of it, and he shook his head over it. Then another ring banged, and a smile went over his face. Someone was _helping_ him!

"Yeah! S'right! C'mon!" he shouted as he matched the bang with his fist. "Get me out of here!" Smirking grin on his face, he had to add, "and bring back that smell!"

* * *

Harry had no idea how much time was passing. The sun never seemed to move, which was just plain _odd_. The last ring shattered and he fell to his knees, completely spent. After a bit, he looked around again. "Oh, come on. Enough with this dream already! I'm out!"

Nothing happened, which made him mutter a slew of profanities. Most of those he learned from his Uncle, and he didn't care who heard it. Petunia would hit him in the back of the head with the frying pan if she was there.

Suddenly, his shoes and socks disappeared. He knew it when he felt the sand start between his toes. Jerking about, he stared at his feet as he wondered what else was going on. Then his wind breaker vanished. "What's going on?"

His trousers went next, causing him to sigh. "Someone's a pervert," he muttered.

He could smell rubbing alcohol, and he felt cool dabs go over his face. This of course made him blink in confusion and try to feel whatever it was that was going over his cheeks and nose. After that oddity, and proving his luck was truly atrocious, his tee and boxers went away.

"Who's _doing_ that?" he shouted. Then he caught _that_ smell again. "Oh, show your face," he nearly whined. "Are you the one I saw in the forest?" His answer came with the feeling of a warm and wet flannel going over his chest.

That went on for a while, and he realized someone or something was cleaning him. Whatever was going on, it seemed to avoid certain areas, which was fine by him. His anger from earlier seemed to bleed away with the pleasant sensations. Even the warmth going over his back and later his backside was nice.

There was a pause and he thought it was over. "Thanks," he whispered just before he felt the last place being cleaned. Eyes wide, he looked down. "Oh, that's not fair."

After a while of that, his eyes rolled back as he just let himself feel for once. "Damn, that's nice." Then he frowned when the sensations stopped. "Aww."

Whatever was going on must have heard that, because he felt a kiss in a place he never thought of before, making him jerk. Almost felt like an apology.

"Well, _one_ thing's for sure," he mused, "this is one hell of a better dream than I'm used to." That made him chuckle a bit.

Some time later a white tee appeared over his chest. "What, just a shirt?" he half complained. He then felt something go around his pelvis, and looked down with a larger frown. "Y fronts?" Frowning, he shrugged. "Well, at least they fit better."

Instead of the rest of the clothes he was now expecting, glorious warmth surrounded something that had him bending over with his head back. "_Ohhhh_." Whomever was doing this had his FULL attention now.

The warm, wet, and _fluttering_ pressure went on for a while, before suddenly stopping. "Oh, COME ON! FINISH THE BLOODY JOB!" he shouted in frustration.

He thought about doing it himself, when a shadow on the ground caught his attention. He spun into a defensive posture, to find some sort of savage standing in front of him in a half crouch? Eyeing it up and down, he could tell it was a girl but not the one he'd smelled earlier. This one was a bit too earthy, and smelled of spice of some sort.

His brow went up. "Was that you?" A shake of her head almost had him sighing in relief. She then pointed to her right with a bit of a throaty chuckle. Looking over with a flush on his face, he saw a depression in the sand with some sort of fire pit. "Isn't it already hot out for that?" he deadpanned.

A hand on his shoulder got him moving. "All right, all right," he mumbled. "Whatever."

It didn't take all that long to get there, and he turned to study the girl. "So," he drawled, "what now?" She was staring at his forehead. Petulant, he crossed his arms. "_Yes_, yes. I'm _him_, and that's the _bloody_ _scar_. Mind not staring at it? It's rude."

"Bad," she said in an odd growling voice.

He simply blinked at her in confusion. "Pardon?"

She traced a lightning bold on her own forehead, and said 'bad' again. "Fix?"

His head went back with wide eyes. "Can you? No one's been able to. Bloody hell, I'd _kiss_ you if you did."

She smirked at him and tapped her chest. "Sineya," she growled.

"Harry," he replied with a smile. His automatic hand out had her looking at it funny. "What? It's how we say hello. You take each other's hand and shake them a couple of times." She took hold of his hand and shook it. Not up and down, however, but side to side. "Well, that works too I guess."

She tapped his chest and pointed to the ground. "What, you want me to lay down?" Her grunt had him shrug. Doing as she 'asked', he found the sand to be somewhat comfortable. She then knelt and touched his chest, and he felt a full _body bind_ go over him. _'Oh shit,'_ he thought to himself.

"No move," she growled, "no hurt."

_'Like I can argue?'_ he thought.

He saw her grin, then lean over him to feel the scar with her finger. Whatever she was doing got interrupted by a rather indignant shout. "Hey! What the hell's going on?"

Another shadow went over his body, and he saw a different girl standing on the other side of him. That smell was there again, and she reminded him of that other girl with the odd accent. He tried to look, but had to contend with his peripheral vision. Harry could tell she was looking at him, but that was it.

"Back off bitch, he's _mine_!" he heard her shout.

_'Yours?'_ he thought to himself. _'Was she the one doing all that before? What the bloody hell is going on?'_

Sineya stood _quite_ abruptly. If Harry didn't know any better, he thought she apperated herself into standing, she was so fast. "Mate?" he heard her growl.

"That's right. He's _mine_… I. Don't. Share."

_'Bloody hell. Who is this? Better not be another fan girl. Too many of those. I ought to hire some bodyguards or something.'_

Sineya pulled the new girl down to where they were crouching on either side. He saw her point between her eyes, then the new girl, then his own chest. "Mate?" she growled again.

"_Yes_, dammit!" the new girl said in a growl of her own.

Holding her hand up in what Harry thought to be a bit of an apology, Sineya then placed both hands on his chest. "Mate," she stated, then pointed at his scar. "_Demon_," she growled in a snarl.

New girl echoed his own thoughts precisely. "Oh, shit." She then leaned over him with a bit of a scared look on her face.

_'Okay, she's definitely pretty_ _and__ the source of that wonderful smell,' _he realized. _'Hope she was the one doing all that before. Wouldn't mind, to be perfectly honest. Merlin, she smells good.'_

Sineya introduced herself, and new girl nodded. "Faith," she said back, and Harry now had a name to go with the pretty face. "How do we get it out of him?" he heard her whisper.

Having Faith look at her again, Sineya held up a finger. For reasons unknown, her hand moved so that Harry could see it. He wasn't sure he wanted to now, to tell the truth, because he saw something that reminded him of Buckbeak's Talons growing from the end of it.

"_Sineya_," she growled her own name slowly out. "_Slay_," she looked down at him, "_Demon_." And with that, Sineya moved like lightning and stabbed Harry's scar with her finger.

_'SWEET MERLIN!'_ Harry howled in his head as concentrated pain lanced through his scar.

His vision clouded with what looked like to be a room, with this Faith over him. Her eyes would've scared him if he'd noticed. As it was, he couldn't even tell there was wind whipping about. He felt his throat go raw as a screeching wail filled his ears. Honestly, in the back of his mind, it reminded him of when he stabbed the diary.

When it was over, he blinked and saw Sineya again. Faith was gone for some reason. Sineya waved her hand over him and he could move again. "What the hell?" he complained as he scrambled backwards.

Sineya stood up straight in a poise that he hadn't seen her do before. "I must apologize," she said in a completely different voice. She then shocked him as her savage nature abruptly vanished. Generic features appeared, and her skin wasn't all that dark any more. He wasn't sure if Sineya was even _female_ at this point either. That thought was somewhat confirmed as her face became more masculine.

Holding his forehead, Harry stared at the person. "What are you? Are you a Death Eater or something?"

The now male Sineya scoffed at him. "Hardly. Have a seat, young mage."

Looking to his left, he saw two rather comfortable chairs materialize. "Nice conjuration," he commented on the plush brown leather. Climbing into it from the ground, he appreciated the rather cushy feel. "_Very_ nice conjuration," he corrected himself. This was better than those chintz monstrosities that the faculty seemed to favour. Or was that just Dumbledore?

"I try," the person said as he sat in the other chair. "I assume you have questions."

Harry tilted his head. "What is it with cryptic and redundant questions?" he grumbled. "Are you that Sineya person?"

He shook his head. "I took her form to give Faith a bit of reference. Her watcher will get the idea from what she tells him later. To answer your first question, I am neutral. A bit younger than the multiverse, but not my much."

Harry blinked. "Right." Fidgeting a bit, he shook his head. "So, what do I call you?"

"Names were meaningless back then," he said with a shrug. "However, if you must use one, you may call me Isorropía."

Harry tilted his head the other way. "What is that, Greek?"

"Yes," he said with an approving grin. "It simply means balance."

Harry gave Isorropía a one eyed squint. "I have the feeling I'm in for a long story."

The now somewhat middle aged appearing fellow nodded. "The Powers That Be say they were the first beings to achieve sentience in the multiverse. This is only partially true. The Old Ones would say they were, but then they say the Partners were weak. Never trust just words, trust the words of those who were there. That said, I was there. The Powers and the Partners are three by three; equal, yet opposite. They were kept in check by the Primals, of which there were also three. I was one of them."

Harry was wide eyed now. "A god?"

"If you like, but not really. There's a hierarchy to everything," he explained. "With your help, I can finally be promoted, as it were."

He didn't know what to think of that. "What of the other two like you?"

"They were destroyed," Isorropía said with a sad frown. "Left was betrayed by the Partners, while Right was deemed Dark and was assassinated by the Powers."

"So, what is it you want from me?" Harry asked rather quietly.

"Patience," he lightly scolded. "In order to get to that point, I must tell you of my past. As you have guessed, I am neither male nor female. Such things weren't thought of until much later, and this isn't what I really look like either. You're not ready for that just yet.

"After my fellows were gone, the Shadow Men approached me when I made my wishes known to them," he continued. "In order to fill the gaps that my fallen siblings left, there was a need for what you would call a policeman, or _Auror_, that would serve to watch over the two opposing sides on Earth. Living up to their name, they took a shadow of myself, what you might call my _feminine_ side, and fused it with a girl. Her name was Sineya, and she became the first Slayer."

"I'm not familiar with the term," Harry said with a shake of the head.

"Put simply," Isorropía explained, "the Slayer culls vampires and lesser demons who wreak havoc on the world." He paused as he saw Harry frown. "Don't misunderstand me. Not all demons are what you would consider bad or hellish. The word 'demon' has been used as a catch-all to describe any being that resides in an alternate dimension. Some are pure evil and follow the Partners or some other faction. Some are what you would consider angels that follow the Powers. Most fall somewhere in between, however."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "I'm still confused as to what you need me for."

Isorropía chuckled. "Good to see that you're finally able to ask questions. How's that feel, by the way?"

"Rather nice, to be perfectly honest," Harry said with a grin. "You're deflecting, however."

"True," Isorropía nodded. "I'll give you the bare bones, then. What I didn't know at the time, and it cost me greatly, was that the chieftain of the Shadow Men was working for the Powers."

"Knife in the back, huh?" Harry deadpanned.

Isorropía's aura became visible as his voice sounded preternaturally low and loud. **"They Broke Their Pact!"**

Leaning back in the chair, Harry was wide eyed and a bit fearful. "Sorry," he whispered. "What was the pact?"

"Forgive me," Isorropía apologized, sounding normal again. "Touchy subject, and it's been a while since I've spoken to anyone. The pact was part of my ascension, which the Powers didn't want. The Shadow Men were supposed to take two shadows, or aspects, from myself that would enable me to join the higher forces that run the multiverse. Instead of honouring, they took only the female aspect of myself, thus trapping me here.

"I found out later that they worked with the Partners on that. The Powers, that is. With neutrality gone, Free Will goes with it and the multiverse becomes slaves to the forces of Light and Dark."

"Honestly?" Harry interjected. "I know exactly how you feel."

"That's why I chose you," Isorropía said with a grin. "We share the basics. Helped you a bit now and then too."

"Oh?"

"Quirrel and the Dragon," he explained. "Helped you slay that poor excuse for a defence teacher, and nudged you out of the way of a direct hit from that dragon tail." He grinned. "Don't worry, the rest was all you."

"If you don't mind my asking," Harry asked quietly, "why do you need to get 'up there' or be promoted, or whatever it is?"

Isorropía nodded. "You'll note that I haven't said 'universe' but 'multiverse'. While each universe has it's own sub-dimensions, which isn't what this is about, one universe over has a witch of one of my slayers doing something _monumentally_ stupid. So much that the balance has been thrown off centre."

"How bad?" Harry asked. "What'd she do?"

"Full resurrection of a human soul to her original body." Seeing Harry's eyes widen, he nodded. "Yes. She broke one of the fundamental laws out of love. Since it's one of my Slayers, who's counterpart died here a while back, I need to get 'up there' to help right the situation. As it stands, one of the oldest and darkest demons was set loose."

"Good lord," Harry whispered.

"Indeed. It makes your Voldemort seem like a child having teething issues in comparison. Don't worry. What I have in mind will break that prophecy of yours into tiny pieces."

"I like it already," Harry said with a grin.

Isorropía arched a brow. "You might like this as well. Faith claimed you as her mate three times."

"Is that important? I don't even know her. Like to, though."

"It is, and you will," Isorropía said, just before he leaned forward and stared deeply into Harry's eyes. A flood entered Harry's mind, causing him to gasp as he began to view the life and times of one Dorothy Faith Lehane.

He cried. Harry James Potter actually let himself _cry_. Not only was Faith's childhood as bad as his, hers was actually _worse_. While Harry had the thought that his parents couldn't have been that bad, she was being abused by hers. He wasn't able to look away either as he witnessed some things that Vernon _never_ did.

Being called and running away. _'can't blame her. Her dad needs to die.'_; meeting Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. _'Oh, Merlin. Not another Percy.'_; slaying a master vampire with napalm? _'Creative and vindictive. I like it.'_; vampire with a soul makes out with some hot looking bird and loses his soul; Bird … _Cordy or Queenie or somesuch_ … nearly dies – vampire gets soul back, then flees to Los Angeles. _'ironic and quite sad, really.'_; Army moves into Sunnydale – demons leave or something; Seeing himself apperate with a crash of thunder. _'Wow, I look like crap'_.

He blinked and fell back in the chair. "I want to help her," he said quietly, then looked back in his eyes.

Isorropía smiled sadly with a bit of pride. "I know. Will you accept?"

Harry didn't even blink. "Yes."

"She will be free from the Powers soon. Don't hesitate, and you'll see me again."

"Yes, sir."

Grinning, Isorropía thrust his hands _into_ Harry's chest. **"Take it!"**

Harry screamed.

* * *

_**Several Dunes Over**_

Faith looked around the sand. "This again?" Then she noticed Sineya and grinned. "Thanks."

"Still Mate?" Sineya asked.

Fidgeting, Faith shrugged. "Haven't asked him yet. Want to. He smells so _damned good,_ and he sets me on fire."

"Sineya help."

She eyed her. "How?"

Standing from her crouch, Sineya put her hands on either side of Faith's head. "Must know. Know Mate. Help Mate."

Faith shuddered and gasped as her eyes rolled back in her head.

"_Oh gods_," Faith said under her breath. The sight of Harry's childhood was a near mirror of hers. She dreaded seeing what she hoped she wouldn't. And over time, she realised that he never suffered _that_. At least she was able to eat, though. "Looks like he has a Big Bad after him. Oh _hell_ no."

Shit family; horrible school; _huge fucking snake_; godfather; vows of friendship with some girl… _'thank God she's gay'_; a huge contest he never wanted to be a part of; blood ritual and Big Bad again; _'that Toad needs to die'_; No! Sirius! Shit!

"A prophecy? Well fuck. _Nice_ one, old man. Tell him about it _after_ his pseudo-dad bites it. Ass."

She opened her eyes to see Sineya again. "Still Mate?"

She didn't have to think about it. "Oh, hell yes."

Sineya palmed Faith's stomach. "Need."

Faith gasped as she felt something grow with power in the middle of her gut.

* * *

Faith and Harry opened their eyes and realized they were kissing each other. Faith was still on top of him, and he had a firm grip on her back and backside, keeping her there. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss and stared in each other's eyes.

"Hello, Faith," he said with a shy smile.

She grinned, loving the sound of his voice. "Hey, Harry. Welcome to the Hellmouth."


	4. Brief Interlude

_**"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"  
**__Chapter Four  
- Brief Interlude -_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I don't own squat, save for the plot._

* * *

_**Previously**_

"_She will be free from the Powers soon. Don't hesitate, and you'll see me again."_

"_Yes, sir."_

_Grinning, Isorropía thrust his hands into Harry's chest. **"Take it!"**_

_Harry screamed._

– – –

"_Still Mate?"_

_She didn't have to think about it. "Oh, hell yes."_

_Sineya palmed Faith's stomach. "Need."_

_Faith gasped as she felt something grow with power in the middle of her gut._

– – –

_Faith and Harry opened their eyes and realized they were kissing each other. Faith was still on top of him, and he had a firm grip on her back and backside keeping her close. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss and stared in each other's eyes._

"_Hello Faith," he said with a shy smile._

_She grinned, loving the sound of his voice. "Hey Harry. Welcome to the Hellmouth."_

* * *

_**3:46PM Wesley's House**_

She didn't know whether she was going to laugh or cry. After waking to the most intense kiss she could ever remember, she felt … dizzy. That was the only word she could think of. It was like being on that spinney thing on a playground that was going fifty miles an hour round and round, before coming to a complete stop. Oh, she still had her balance, but inside she was all over the place.

It was wonderful.

Glancing at her boy-toy as they descended the stairs, she realized that he was just as out of it. He matched her glance, causing him to smirk with a bit of a blush. That sight had her giggling of all things. Giggling! _Faith – Does – Not – Giggle!_ Then again, Faith has never been completely sated before either. _That boy's tongue should be listed as either a lethal weapon, or the epitome of sex aids. Possibly both. Lethal sex aid?_

Their first tryst together was Harry's first, period. And, while they did go through memory lane with the help of a higher being, they weren't privy to _every_ minute detail. _Thank God for small favours._ Still though, Harry was reluctant at first, if only due to the fact that he knew what Faith's father did to her _and_ didn't want to cause her any more pain. This was a first for her. Anyone else would've been all over her, not that she actually went after just _anyone_.

Since she was in prime position and knew what that was doing to him, Faith simply attempted to reach the boy's tonsils while moving the appropriate coverings out of the way. After that and a slow shimmy, the pair of them lost all sense of focus and couldn't move. The intensity was so high, that they couldn't make a sound. That might have been fortunate, however. As it was, there wasn't any sort of movement except involuntary and ecstatic convulsions.

When they finally came down and stared in each other's eyes again, they felt something had clicked into place. Neither of them knew what exactly clicked, but it didn't matter because they simply _fit_. While they knew they were both broken, they knew the other filled the gaps that was in the other. Of course, neither of them noticed the small light show they had been putting off at the time. Nothing too spectacular, just a bit of silver and red dancing between them.

It was rather significant, though, even if they missed it.

With smirking grins on their faces, they entered the kitchen and split up. Harry made for the pantry, while Faith pulled out cooking pots and whatnot. They were in the middle of making breakfast for dinner when the kitchen door opened.

* * *

Caffeinated and still bleary, Wes went over the files that Poppy had given him. Reading Mr. Potter's was a touch redundant, but he was meticulous about details. Seeing the venom and tears confirmed was a touch nauseating, and it had made him wonder what the devil was going on at his Alma Mater.

Poppy's notes on what Lockhart did to his arm was rather scathing. Then again, her notes on what appeared to be her most frequent patient seemed to be scathing as well. Numerous Quidditch injuries, hexings and whatnot, with…

"I beg your pardon?" Wes blurted at no one. "Dementors? At a Bloody School? _Three_ attacks? Has the whole world gone _'round the twist_?" That revelation made him wish he had some Ogden's handy. Fourth year seemed to be a bit of a disaster as well. Fifth… "Who the devil is Dolores Umbridge, and WHY was she consigning Mr. Potter to write lines with a ruddy Blood Quill?"

He had to pause, as he suddenly became sick to his stomach. Setting aside the file, he opened the other one.

Miss Granger's was a touch amusing at first. Apparently, other than a few knocks and bruises, she had successfully brewed polyjuice potion in her _second_ year, and only messed up the final ingredient. _That's a __N.E.W.T.__ potion!_ The wizarding photo of the result forced several chuckles out of him and an amused _'oh my dear'_, but his humour died when he read that she was one of the petrification victims later that year.

"Of course!" his mind connected the dots of venom and tears. "Reflected stare of a basilisk. Wonder how many it took to kill it?" he asked himself.

The third year notes were a touch cryptic. There was a reference to exhaustion but no cause listed. Fourth year had references to quite a few calming draughts. He flipped through Mr. Potter's file for similar dates and remembered the bother that was the Tri-Wizard Tournament. So, the draughts made sense in that context. He'd need them too.

The meat of what he was after was at the tail end of her file. He noted the odd frequency of the cutting curse that Poppy recorded and did some mental Arithmancy. Eyes popping, he searched for and found references to severe organ bruising all along the underside of the scar. He would bet money that whatever the curse was, it had to have been either a graze or severely underpowered.

The notes for the somewhat weak amorentia in her system completely offended him. Thankful that there was an easy cure for it, he wondered if she would need a mind healer or a psychologist. That it was keyed to someone that was considered a close friend would be grounds for terminating said friendship, then wondering where one went wrong.

Sighing, Wesley rubbed his eyes and made to take a break. Coming into the hallway had him become aware of a rather lovely smell of food. Eggs, the scent of syrup and potatoes… breakfast? He checked his watch just to make sure he hadn't worked overnight again, then made his way down to the kitchen… concerned.

Faith was a horrid cook.

What he found when he entered the kitchen shocked him. Set aside the fact that Mr. Potter shouldn't even be _conscious_, it was the sight of him and Faith working in perfect tandem around the stove and counter that had him gaping.

He stood there and watched, dumbfounded, while Faith poured the batter she just finished whisking into a skillet, while at the same time leaning back so that the lad could grab something off the spice rack. He caught the sides of their apparently smiling faces as they worked, before they addressed him.

"Well, Bow-Tie, gonna stand there all day?" Faith asked.

Harry looked over his shoulder at him and grinned. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Thank you for the wonderful healing and taking me in last night. Thought I could whip up something as a fair payment, but things… _escalated_… a bit."

Just hearing Faith giggle was a novel experience, but seeing her bump shoulders with Mr. Potter while she did it sent alarm bells though his head. "Oh, come off it, Harry," he heard her say. "You know I used to burn water."

Nodding, Harry smirked at her. "And I couldn't let that go. Yes. I know, dear."

_'Dear?'_ Wesley thought to himself. "Forgive me if this sounds rather abrupt, Mr. Potter, but how are you awake?"

"He's either wigged over you being upright, or the fact that I'm cooking," Faith commented. "Have a seat, Wes. I think you're gonna like this. We'll talk over breaky."

Wesley baulked at what he heard. _'Breaky? Why the devil did I just hear a London accent spring out of her?' _

Eyeing him over her shoulder, Faith winked. "Siddown b'fore you break th'floor," she said with her usual Bostonian clip.

"Right," Wesley said with a blink, before he took a seat. "Uhm, yes. Could you…"

"Food first," Faith interrupted. "We're _starving_." She turned to her left with wide eyes. "_Gentle_, Harry! That's the third one you mangled."

"Damn," he muttered. "Sorry."

Faith lifted a large plate of something and spun to place it on the table. "Looks like we get to go grocery shopping."

"What for?" Wesley asked, wondering what he forgot to get yesterday.

"Egg training," Faith stated, causing Harry to groan.

The lad turned with a plate of rather nice smelling 'poor man bangers' (_spiced hamburger meat fried up in link shape_) to set on the table. "That's so…"

"_Necessary_," Faith stated. "Sucks. But if you don't, you can hurt someone. What are you going to do if you break Hermione with a hug?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Be fair though. She's come close to cracking my ribs several times."

Faith whacked his arm with a chuckle as she fetched some juice from the fridge, setting it on the table. "Do yourself a favour, Bow Tie, and don't shake hands with the man yet."

Wesley blinked. "What has happened, and why would he need egg training?"

"So he wont break your fingers, _duh_," Faith deadpanned.

Wes blinked again, trying to tie this into a semblance of order. He flinched when heard a glass shatter, along with Mr. Potter's swearing and apologizing.

"Okay, Bull," Faith said, her smirk never left her face, since she was watching what she went through the first time happening to someone else and thought it was hysterical. "Sit down. I'll handle the glasses and get you a plastic one. You get picnic-ware too."

"Picnic-ware?" he asked, confused.

There was a rustle, before two blurs of white flew across the room. Harry caught them both with one hand. "Oh! Plastic flatware." Sighing, he sat next to Wes with a pensive look on his face. "Sorry."

"What _is_ going on?" Wes half demanded. He didn't even _see_ the utensils until Harry caught them.

"In short," Mr. Potter started.

"Prophecy time!" Faith sing-songed.

Wes blinked once more. "… shit."

"Quite," Harry said dryly. "You want the long version, or the highlights?" He leaned back without looking, while Faith set his big blue glass of orange juice in front of him. "Thanks, dear."

"No problem, stud," Faith said in Harry's ear, before licking the outer edge of it. Grinning at the face he made, she sat on the opposite side of the table.

Apparently, that was the point where Wes reached his limit. "All right! Stop this! I understand hormones can cause radical changes, but you two have barely met and are far too in synch to be normal!"

Sighing, Harry gave him a droll look. "Could you not have waited another thirty seconds?" He eyed the victory grin Faith was sporting. "Yes. Fine." He sighed again.

Faith bounced in her seat happily, then filled her plate. "Don't sweat it, babe. I'll have you lookin' good by the time I'm done with you."

Harry gathered what he considered Ron sized portions, then pointed at Wes' plate. "Eat while it's still hot. Or don't, seeing as now I have to contend with _her_ taste for my new clothes. _Which_, by the way, I'll need access to a Gringotts branch. Are there any close?"

"There's one in the magical quarter in San Francisco," Wes said quietly. Looking back and forth between the two, he was fit to be tied. However, seeing Harry eat as ravenously as Faith would after a night on patrol, he decided it was best to gather something before it was all gone. Also, the sight of Faith blissing from the food was… _disturbing_. That is, until he had a few bites.

"I can't believe you made this, Faith," the Watcher said, completely surprised. "It's simply marvellous."

Nodding happily, she swallowed. "He's a keeper, and this is part of what we need to talk about. But not right now."

After they were done eating, Harry wandlessly put the dishes away with a simple wave of his hand. "Hmph. That was easier than I thought it would be."

"Now would be a good time to start explaining," Wesley complained.

Looking at him, Harry relented. "The one with the power…"

* * *

_A/N - Sorry so short._


End file.
